


Refined Technique

by starforged



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starforged/pseuds/starforged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Finnick Odair killed someone else, and one time that he couldn't. Mentions of rape, warnings for minor violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refined Technique

**i.**

He's had no qualms about going into the Hunger Games, like any good Career. They're raised on the idea of human bloodshed; it's a way of life. It doesn't bother him, and that's what he tells Mags as she straightens his net. He doesn't quite understand the look in her eyes, can't even put a name to it.

(It's pity, he'll come to understand later, and also a bit of disgust, because no child should be okay with killing. He doesn't hold it against her.)

The first kill is easy enough, the poor bastard from District Seven gets in his way, and he remembers how his father taught him that the neck is weak if you twist just right. His hands don't even shake when he grabs the boy from behind at the Cornucopia, one hand on his chin and the other on the back of his head, applying pressure and twisting.

He was a scrawny boy anyway. It's better for him this way.

Finnick takes the knife the boy was holding.

* * *

**ii.**

Not every kill is clean and perfect.

His high from the snapped neck gives him a bigger head than he deserves, and he learns that lesson hard. But it's a lesson he needs, he decides later, adding the cracking of bone to the gurgle of blood in the lungs a couple of nights later.

Finnick brags, of course, in a way that is too unrefined to be perfect or careful. He's careless and young and grins as he spins the knife between the tips of his fingers as he recounts the story for his fellow Career allies. A boy whose name he forgets decides that the golden boy from 4 is too much of a threat to keep alive.

He gets an arrow in his shoulder for his trouble. It burns like nothing he's ever felt before, not even the time he was caught in his father's fishing nets and trapped underwater for so long that some people still joke that he's got a set of gills set aside for emergencies.

It's with the knife of his first victim that he defends himself imperfectly, but it finally finds that sweet spot between the ribs that Mags described to him.

The boy chokes on his own blood, and Finnick decides he needs to reveal his cards a little more smoothly from now on.

* * *

**iii.**

The trident is a gift that keeps on giving. It gives him the opportunity to not get too close to his opponents. The nets he weaves are perfect for traps. The girl who falls for it flops around on the ground much like a fish out of water, and he stands over her, trident poised, and does nothing.

He's not savoring it. He's decided that killing is distasteful, but necessary. The excitement of only a few days ago (it feels like an eternity has passed in the arena, but it's only been four days, four nights, eight contenders left) no longer carries the same weight.

No, Finnick watches the girl because he starts to wonder why it is they have to do this. He wonders why death should be entertainment.

Her eyes are so wide, he can barely pick out the color of her irises. Her eyes are white and large and full of the same fear he imagines a fish experiences as it writhes uselessly. He doesn't feel sorry for it, of course, when the prongs pierce her chest and she stops moving. He doesn't feel sorry for the fish he's killed; like this, it's a necessary part of his life.

They die so that he can live. And that's all that matters to Finnick at the end of the day.

* * *

**iv.**

It isn't a real death. Not a physical one, at least.

But he slowly begins to extinguish every part of him that is still what he can even call good with each touch laid on him.

It doesn't start off that way. He's young and beautiful and he likes to let people know it. He likes the way that the women look at him, and the way they smell when they press their bodies against his, and he really doesn't care about the age differences. At first.

But then they grow older. Or crueler. They touch him with icy fingers and scratch with nails that are like claws. They offer him drugs to keep him calm or make him violent, depending on their moods - and the amount of money they pay for it.

He entertains men, too. Laughs at their jokes, makes them feel wanted and important and promises that their secret is his to keep. And they believe him when he offers that smile of his, dark and smooth.

He takes the party favors because it's easier to lose himself in them and forget whose hands are stroking him and who he's stroking in return.

Finnick dies a little so that he can continue living his meager, shitty existence.

* * *

**v.**

By the time he kills his fellow victor to protect Katniss Everdeen, he doesn't even have to think about it. Death is as easy as breathing to Finnick Odair, and maybe he likes the look on her face when he does it - indignant, uncertain, grateful.

By the time he kills his fellow victor (they used to party together, he remembers without much emotion behind the thought), Finnick knows that this time it has a purpose.

It isn't about survival anymore.

It's about living.

* * *

**vi.**

The first time Annie sneaks into his room is a mistake. Not a mistake on her behalf, no, because she certainly means to do it. She's quiet as a mouse, barely breathing.

Her knee presses into the mattress. To be honest, she hasn't really planned this out very well. All she knows is that she was thinking about him, and that's how she makes most decisions these days. If it involves Finnick, she goes for it.

That's probably a dangerous way of living, but sometimes she's beyond that sort of rationale.

He's on her instantly, as if he isn't even asleep.

But his hand is around her throat, breath ragged, and maybe he was asleep. And she whimpers in fear. She knows exactly what Finnick is capable of. His fingers squeeze once before loosening. They don't move as he stares at her with wide eyes.

"Annie." He sounds as confused as she feels most days, and even though her heart is beating erratically, she manages to find a lopsided smile for him.

"Finnick."

His hand doesn't move, even when he removes the distance between them, capturing her mouth in a kiss so harsh and painful, it takes her breath away.


End file.
